


Our Holiday Chain

by Teal_Rainbeau



Series: v Canonverse Collection v [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Apathetic Keith, Baking, Character Study, Christmas Caroling, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Special, Depressed Shiro (Voltron), Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hopeless Pidge (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk (Voltron) is trying, Mild Angst, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Photoshop, Post-Voltron: Legendary Defender Season/Series 07, Sad Lance (Voltron), Snowball Fight, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teal_Rainbeau/pseuds/Teal_Rainbeau
Summary: Hunk loves Christmas, but everyone else is avoiding the holiday for their own unique reasons...Spreading the warmth begins with an encounter with Shiro.12-28-2020: Lance and Pidge's chapter are up. The final chapter has also been posted, concluding this story.(A revision of my 2018 fic.)
Relationships: Hunk & Shiro (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: v Canonverse Collection v [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826407
Comments: 14
Kudos: 8





	1. Hunk

**Author's Note:**

> Very frequent uploads to come, as in this will be complete before this weekend is up.  
> Merry Christmas! ♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk remembers that the best way to spread holiday cheer is through communication.

“According to your Earth calendar, when do the festivities begin?” Allura asked.

“Tomorrow.” Commander Iverson answered quickly, returning to his paperwork.

“And where has everyone else run off to?” Coran wondered out loud.

“Cadets and officers are home for the holiday season with their families.” Iverson responded again.

Though the Paladins of Voltron were on indefinite medical leave, none of them could officially go home just yet. At least their families were kept nearby in provisional living arrangements.

But the holiday spirit was noticeably lacking among them. Hunk mentioned Christmas Day to the rest of the team, and would receive indifference at best, glimmers of melancholy at worst.

Shiro simply “remembered” a rushed emergency seminar last time Hunk mentioned a Christmas tree and scooted off into the briefing room.

Keith simply said he didn’t know what he would do for that day, in a rather lackluster tone even for him.

Lance, who would have gushed at the opportunity to think, see, and do in hues of red and green, tossed him a weak smile and excused himself to bed.

Pidge didn’t even remember what calendar day it was, instead mumbling grumpily about having her heater up full blast with her feet sticking out of her blanket tonight. 

Hunk lamented, “I don’t think anyone’s feeling it this year. We just got back to our families, and let’s not forget we were released from the hospital some 1-2 weeks after being admitted. So, I completely understand they’d want to just take a breather.”

“Right.” Coran responded sadly, scratching his head. Hunk noticed Coran’s fallen gaze shift to a more inspired gleam. “But what about the prophecy of the 12 days of Christmas?”

The question hatched a confused frown to Hunk’s face. _Prophecy._ After wising up seconds later, he chuckled into his hands.

“Please forgive me, Coran. Are you talking about the Christmas carol?”

“Christmas Carol? Is that an entity of some sort? _”_ Allura echoed innocently.

“Not quite… they’re actually holiday-themed songs about spreading good cheer, being kind to all, and being thankful for what you have.” The yellow Paladin smiled.

“What do you say about using your powers of diplomacy to spread the good cheer?” Coran became serious, “You know, dear boy. Sharing customs, traditions, doesn’t have to be self-serving. You’re just the right person for the job.”

There was something to what Coran was saying, and it reminded Hunk of a visitor his family had over when he was younger…

_Garrett Household_

_“What are you making this time?”_ Hunk asked his mom out of genuine curiosity.

_“Rhubarb pie. You know, that stuff you mistook for celery.”_

_“Ohh! Your famous strawberry rhubarb pie? Can I pick the strawberries out?_

_“That was exactly the job I was going to give you. Go ahead and take those out of the fridge.”_ She picked them from the farmer’s market the other day. Not quite as glossy as the ones from the supermarket, but much more fragrant and earthy. They were about the size of the circumference between Hunk’s thumb and pointing finger. Only the biggest, plumpest berries would make the cut.

This was not a pie for the family, although she put another aside for later. Instead, there was a new neighbor who returned home to her mother. She had three children of her own, all under the age of six, and supposedly lost her husband in a car crash. They were only four houses down from the Garretts. She was pretty young, Hunk remembered. Maybe twice as old as his own twelve years.

When she came over for the first time, she emitted such vibrancy despite her little ones attached to her like koalas to a tree. Skin glowed a deep bronze, medium-length brown and black Ombre curls were secured with a floral scarf, and her long, lean body was clothed in an oversized sweater and skinny jeans with black boots. He never remembered her speaking with a frown or a sour face. What was most fascinating was her inability to speak in a volume above a whisper.

 _“I damaged my vocals in the accident”_ she explained to the family, lips pursed in stifled sadness.

Calliope was her name. And her own five-year-old revealed that she never ate much until she started with Mrs. Garrett’s cooking.

After dinner, they played in their back yard with his niece and nephew and her children. A game of Telephone. The objective was for the first person to begin with the message, and the next person to whisper the same message to the next person, and so on until the last person standing revealed what the initial message was.

According to what he heard from the last child participating, Hunk revealed it as _“Your Mom is God”._

The youngest children were in stitches, rolling around in the grass as Calliope shook her head, whispering _“The pie was good.”_

 _“Oh. I’ll let her know.”_ Hunk laughed with a blush on his face.

_Present Day_

“You’re right, Coran” he smiled with a renewed sense of spirit. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Coran expelled a hitched gasp as Hunk wrapped his big arms around him. The boy smiled sheepishly and released his grip.

How to get the Paladins on board…something in his gut said to start with Shiro first.


	2. Shiro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro begins his healing

_Five Years Ago: Galaxy Garrison_

Adam loved to experiment in the kitchen. Mixing, spreading, sprinkling. It was a precious time out of their vacation when he appeared to thrive in a non-linear rhythm. It brought Shiro’s pulse to a quiet settle, and his heart to a satisfying simmer.

 _“Why are you mixing so little?”_ he asked, exasperated.

_“Because it’s only going to be you and me, silly.”_

_Shiro scooped a pinky finger into the bowl separate from the one he was mixing with. Adam slapped his hand with a wooden spoon._

_“_ What?! I was just taste testing!”

 _“I already did that, Takashi!”_ Adam wailed.

 _“Well, I’m offering a very unbiased view that…”_ he flinched at Adam’s eyes challenging him behind those thinly rimmed glasses, as if daring him to say something wrong. Shiro swallowed with an honest grin _, “it’s soooo good and I want some more!”_

Adam snatched the bowl and put it in the refrigerator after wrapping it. _“After I’ve frosted them, okay? Can I trust you to wait that long?”_

 _“Yes, Commander!”_ Shiro saluted, causing the other man to crumble into giggles.

 _“What am I going to do with you, Takashi?”_ He removed his glasses, amber eyes lovingly gazing into Shiro’s.

_“I’m not sure, you might have to continue loving me.”_

They sealed their banter with a buttery-soft kiss.

_Present Day_

Hunk made his way to the refrigerator to gather ingredients for tonight’s dessert. He didn’t bother to turn the lights on yet. While humming Jingle Bells, he pulled eggs and milk from the fridge, then slid to the pantry for something else…

“Can’t wait to see the final result.”

A loud yelp erupted from his frozen frame as he fumbled with the small bottle. Shiro couldn’t see his face clearly, but he noticed his brief struggle.

“Shiro! I… okay, you’re hanging out, in the dark?”

Shiro’s eyes dimmed, gaze looking down at the countertop. “I really thought you could see me brooding here, otherwise I would have...”

“Don’t worry about it.” He assured softly. “At least _you_ wouldn’t try to give me a heart attack on purpose.”

“And who would?” He paused and shook his head, smiling. “Never mind.” Because who else beside a certain blue paladin would ever do that to Hunk?

“Tough day?” Lights were on now, courtesy of Hunk.

“Just feeling like the ghost of Christmas Past lately. You would think that dying, getting reincarnated, and then nearly dying again would afford a guy some time to rest in peace.” He could feel Hunk’s pity striking into his veins, and it made him cringe on the inside. The poor guy never quite understood his parched sense of humor. “Please don’t mind me.”

“Well, I’m getting ready to make my Mom’s famous Gingerbread cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, so you’re welcome to stay.” Hunk smiled while cracking open eggs and mixing sugar in a bowl.

“Alright, sounds good.”

It took about forty-five minutes for the entire recipe to come together. Sometime in the middle of that process, Hunk asked for a taste test, worried that the consistency would not come out correctly. He offered Shiro a spoon with a heap of frosting caked on.

“This is a lot, you sure you’ll have enough for the cupcakes?”

“Hunk smiled, “Oh, I always make extra on purpose, just in case someone wants to frost cookies or something. Definitely more than enough for a dozen cupcakes.” The boy peered at Shiro in anticipation as he took the spoon from him and brought it to his own mouth.

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat, forming the most uncomfortable lump.

“Well?”

“It’s good.” He choked. This small moment unearthed memories of so many ghosts from the war that he still wasn’t ready to acknowledge out loud. And of Adam, when life was more stable, and Kerberos did not stand between them. Fate couldn’t even permit them to say goodbye.

When Hunk turned his back, Shiro used his knuckle to blot a tear from his eye. He could stand pain. Kindness, on the other hand, a sweet pain he wished wasn’t so easy for him to absorb. More emotions rose in a wave and ambushed him to the counter, bringing him to violent sobs on the cold surface.

“Shi-” 

He could feel Hunk’s heavy hand settle on his shoulder with a comforting weight, and he secured it with his artificial hand. With an abrasive swipe, he used his other hand to wipe the cascade of tears from his overheated face. “Please…forgive…me…”

But as Hunk peered into his wet eyes, not a trace of judgement stained his gaze. And being around this kind-hearted soul was disarming to an uncomfortable degree.

“Shiro, you have always put your best foot, and face, forward. All while being just as human as any…I mean most, of us. Don’t think for a second that you are anything less than that, because you have shown us what it is to experience true loss.” He straightened, “And you’ve literally lived and died to tell about it, with your own dignity! It’s only natural to break down, that way you can build yourself back up, without the false pretense!

“Thank you, Hunk.” Shiro sighed, chest still heaving. At least his body was no longer trembling uncontrollably.

“Shiro, thank _you_ **.”** Hunk gave him a soldier’s salute.


	3. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro helps Keith to remember his spirit

_A Shack in Texas_

Keith would be at home decorating within the confines of his 8-year-old imagination: pine cones from the national forest strewn on several shelves, Christmas cards hanging from a blanket strewn on the back of the door, aerosol “snow” streamed on every window in the house, including one in the bathroom.

 _“Go nuts”,_ his father would say every single year, and that’s just the way he liked it.

Despite the promising overcast, Keith was a child that appreciated snow, but didn’t really “need” a Winter Wonderland like his classmates did.

He continued to skip upstairs, humming holiday tunes streaming on the device from the fireplace panel. Speaking of which, his nose was starting to freeze. Time to get that wood from outside before something happened to it.

It was too bad he didn’t know his mother; she would once again have been welcomed here to elate herself in holiday cheer with her family. But that wasn’t going to happen, he ruminated as he picked up a broom and started towards the front porch.

Still overcast, but clouds were thickening to a frightening charcoal. He sighed.

_“Keith!”_

His eyes widened at the sight of his father’s truck pulling up to the gate. It definitely wasn’t time for him to come home from work yet. But the man was standing there waving while looking happier than he looked in a week.

_“Drop that broom, get your shoes and jacket, and let’s go!”_

Keith did exactly that in record time and they were off to a neighborhood that was less isolated compared to their own hundred acres of land. Houses were lined in a grid, spaced apart only by each other’s lawns, yet still maintained a rural aesthetic with their own respective pieces of dirt land, some with horses and other farm animals. He marveled at the annual sight of Christmas lights strewn throughout the streets, some wrapped around Christmas-themed wood cutouts in the front yards.

 _“Hope you got your singing voice ready.”_ His father smiled warmly, then looked at him with worry lining his brows, _“Now you didn’t forget, did you, boy?”_

 _“No, sir.”_ No matter how busy things were this time of year, the man would drop every obligation possible for charity time.

They went house to house, joining other firemen from his father’s job, making a team of roughly a dozen. “Jingle Bells”, “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire”, and other classics rotated from house to house. The old man always sung beautifully and none of his blessed residents were complaining.

One woman even gave Keith a red jacket as a Christmas gift, complimenting that he too had a pretty singing voice, and that _“the girls would be sure to notice someday”._ He formed his lips into a courteous smile as he thanked her for the gift.

His father patted him on the back and ruffled his hair. _“He got his father’s singing chops, that’s why.”_ He added with a warm chuckle.

Present Day

The memory was warm, much more than this so-called final resting place, where Keith found himself placing a decent looking Poinsettia at his father’s grave marker. He noticed each gravestone littered with wreathes and some draped in strings of lights.

But the anger that would bubble to the surface replaced itself through the years with a deep fog of indifference, which was better than the former. Who would've known that his old man was going to perish weeks later. Too bad you couldn’t tamper with fate.

“Not the same as we get older, is it?”

Keith turned around to see Shiro walking towards him with his red hovercraft parked, still in his uniform. Between Garrison meetings and reconstruction, it had been challenging for them to meet like they used to.

They hugged, and something about the older man’s grip was intense despite the peace that hung around them. An concentrated sensation of warmth, with the transference of peace emanating from his chest as Keith hugged him back. “You okay?”

“Had an emotional breakdown over Hunk’s cupcakes earlier, but I feel much better now.’

Keith worried that there was much more to _that_ story, and knowing Shiro, was probably not going to hear about it. “The frosting was _that_ good.” _There_ was that signature dry humor that Keith appreciated.

“Maybe I’ll have one later.” Keith didn’t know if he meant that, considering that sweets were lately _not_ his favorite thing. Neither was humming to himself out loud or singing with feeling. His face grew solemn, “Just remembering when Dad and I would go caroling through the nearby neighborhoods.” His breath fell as he began to open up, “I miss it all. It really _isn’t_ the same now that I’m an adult.” He didn’t indulge in the joy of seeing most decorations or other festive stuff because there was no _connection_ to it.

Just a weathered heart that was so close to becoming closed off again.

Keith’s suddenly recognized the atmospheric scent of water, but with a different composition, one that smelled just like...

As he looked up, slow white particles fell from the sky, and one marked his cheek impeccably. More followed, until minutes later an entire windfall of them dropped and settled into his hair and jacket.

“Where have _you_ been?” he whispered softly.

“Bet _he’s_ the one that sent it this year. He didn’t want you to forget.”

Shiro’s words stung his heart sweetly. He was right. As long as he didn’t forget, maybe there was still something to warm his heart. Shaky sighs escaped from his throat, accompanied by pressure in his eyelids from involuntarily staring upward.

“I wasn’t gonna cry...” He murmured. But happiness was sneaky in that way.

“Is this a good time then to say that I want you to have the hover craft?” Shiro asked matter-of-factly. Keith stared at him, mouth opened in surprise.

“You!” he playfully punched his chest and gave him another hug with the most understated, yet grateful laugh. His efforts at stifling a sob were unsuccessful.

“And a Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done, and continue to do.”

“Keith, _please_. You’re my family, and I love you.”


	4. Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance becomes inspired again, thanks to Keith

_Varadero Beach_

Ten-year-old Lance was a firecracker, just the way his family appreciated. Born in July, which gave his energy a radical wave of inspiration and happiness to those who were open enough to receive it. During festivals, he was the first one out the door, on a natural high. He celebrated other’s birthdays with more zeal than his own.

Strangely, he wanted to contain said energy during the winter holidays, when the curtain of warmth in the atmosphere would seldom open itself to an indiscernible chill on the beach of Varadero. Lance loved to daydream in response to this seasonal change. He imagined a different world this Christmas, one that glimmered with possibilities of a classic Christmas, just like the pristine images he would see on “It’s a Wonderful Life”, or the charming “Frosty the Snowman”.

There would never be a snowstorm or any kind of snowflake drizzle from the skies, ever. Cuba as a country was forever summer land, except for a few overcast days with rain.

So, instead, he would opt for gathering water in his bucket from Varadero’s ocean waves. Oldest sister Veronica, twin Rachal, and older brother Marco would all join in the process, spending a good ten minutes mixing water and sand, mushing it together enough to prep a sandman instead. Just like their snowy counterpart, complete with a floppy hat, delicate flower studs, knitted scarf, and a carrot.

 _“Guys, I wanna take lots of pictures of this!”_ Lance exclaimed.

Veronica smirked. " _Hey, we did some of the work, too, so she’ll have to share the spotlight.”_

 _“Hey, just because it’s wearing earrings and a hat doesn’t mean it can’t be a boy.”_ He shot back with a pout.

 _“Whatever!”_ Rachel yelled with her hands on her hips. _“Just get it over with!”_

 _“Don’t be jealous ‘cuz he looks better in your earrings than you do!”_ Lance poked out his neck mockingly.

His oldest sibling, Luis, laughed at the trio, and at Lance who was taking this way too seriously. But Lance didn’t care. He had a vision. And he was going to make it work! So he handed Luis his phone and instructed him to take their picture. Lance was in the middle, the girls on either side, and Marco standing behind him. They posed with smiles and excited demeanors fitting of any Christmas card.

Later that evening, while everyone was downstairs enjoying festivities, he would be busy at work. He swiped his phone and scrutinized each picture carefully to make sure that the sun’s rays weren’t washing their vibrant colors out. With his photo editing app, he began erasing the sandman’s brown grainy texture into something resembling winter fluff. Good thing the picture was facing away from the water, because editing waves would have been so tricky to do. Around them, sand disappeared into a layer of snow, but the houses all remained untouched.

It took him two involving hours for his masterpiece to come together. Time melted away with classic playlist favorites like “Let it Snow” and “Up on the Chimney.” Once he finished, he pressed the “share” button after typing a quick message to go with the picture.

 _“Oh, my God, Mama! Look what Lance did!”_ The mixture of tongue clicks, laughter, and awe-inspired sounds of surprise was a symphony to his ears.

Present Day

Lance still kept that original, unedited picture. Something to reminisce about when space was too much a vacuum or the Garrison walls nothing more than unbending structure. There was also the edited version, which made him snicker at his younger self for not appreciating his roots.

It seemed fitting half an hour ago for him to be on foot in a city a few miles from the Garrison to get a proper feel for snow. An endless supply of slush made each footstep feel like a fruitless crawl. Lance witnessed large tatters of what once were buildings, dull colored cars with wheels blown out, a melancholy array of debris scattered throughout parking lots. It was a shame that such beautiful weather concealed such a tragic backdrop.

Despite aid from those in the Voltron coalition, there was still much rebuilding to do. He should have been more thankful for those that believed in them, but the best he could do was acknowledge their benevolent deeds with his lips. He went to try and mingle with the Coalition members, but they were gone. Probably taking cover from the imminent heavy snowfall.

After peering at the eclectic mix of extraterrestrial booths, he suddenly missed the panorama of healthy trees lining streets, or _something_ that was still a little more…earthly. As if answering his silent request, more winter confetti fell from the clouds while the winds kicked up in intensity. What was he thinking going for a walk on the cusp of a supposed snowstorm? Oh, yeah, bouts of cabin fever! And he was adventurous that way.

That was a _majorly_ bad idea. And his first time ever, in life, of potentially being caught in an actual blizzard.

“Lance!”

He recognized the lightning quick hum of the red Hovercraft and turned to see Keith motion for him to hop on. What a relief that he wouldn’t have to trek in this stuff for the next thirty minutes or so.

A mere five minutes later, Lance rushed inside the safe walls of the Garrison, allowing Keith to come in before shutting them both inside. By then snow whipped and whirled and cut at trees and windows. The sight of the frenzy was intimidating to Lance, but Keith was straight faced and calm, as usual. Clearly used to giant snowstorms like this one.

“Where did you come from?” Lance inquired, gritting his teeth with a rumble in his throat.

“Cemetery.”

That’s right, to visit his father. Speaking of death, how well prepared were Voltron’s visitors from the storm?

“You think they all made proper provisions?” Lance mentioned suddenly.

“Who?”

“Our comrades, I mean, they’ll turn into popsicles, especially the Olkari!”

“I’m sure they’ll adapt, Lance.” Tenderness seeped from Keith’s voice. “If anything, they prepared well in advance.”

While they walked to the main parlor area together, Lance attempted to alleviate the silence with a happier-go-lucky strait. Keith maintained his vision straight ahead, eyes averted from Lance. They spotted a fireplace brimming with warmth and crackling with fresh logs. The boys settled in the two chairs in front, with Lance blowing air and rubbing his palms together rapidly. 

“Uggh! Blizzards are NOT as fun as they look in the paintings!” He moaned.

Keith hummed in response, relaxing with legs crossed and arms perched on those of the chair.

“Thanks for the ride, buddy!”

“Your welcome.” Keith’s voice was sprinkled with concern. “Different from rain, huh?”

“Yep.” Lance allowed the fire to enthrall him. He was not gonna move an inch from this beautiful creature dancing.

Silence blanketed the space between them for a few ticks, maybe longer. Lance began to sing:

_“Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, since we’ve no place to go, let us know, let us know, let us know”_

After the 4th line, Keith sat up straight and raised an eyebrow with gentle scrutiny glowing in his narrowed eyes. “Sing that last part again.”

_Let us know_?” Lance repeated, not knowing why Keith was being critical.

Keith huffed out something akin to a cross between a scoff and laughter. “It’s _let it snow,_ not _let us know!”_

Lance had been singing that wrong for years, _surprise_. Instead of spewing annoyance at Keith, he decided that shutting his trap was better.

“You don’t have to stop singing.”

“I’m really just not in the mood anymore.” Like a petulant child, he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a foot tucked underneath. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Lance sighed, “It’s not you, man. He untucked his leg and turned to Keith. “Kinda makes it hard to get in the Christmas Spirit, when we’re preparing for a war that doesn’t seem to be letting up in the long run. “Guess I’m just trying to put everything into its proper place, to conserve my strength.”

Those booths in that plaza drove a new realization home: he matured during this time as the Blue Paladin. Had seen once vibrant organisms lose their lives to the Galra, witnessed hearts breaking from uprooting or betrayal. How trivial would it have been to hang up lights or gather stockings or knit scarves for friends and family again. He was becoming a man that understood when jovial pursuits had a time and a place. It flooded his heart with a tiresome remorse.

“I understand.” Lance could tell from the heavy exhale that communicating feelings was still half-charted territory for Keith. Yet, his warm eyes and sad, downturned lips did nothing to conceal his compassion.

He sighed and continued “Not long ago I felt so…numb. But I remember from caroling with my Dad just how important it is to do this. It’s so much more than decorations and presents or even traditions; for some people, it’s the only way to restore their spirits. So many of them have had hardships of their own that they may not share with others…”

“Keith...” In some strange way, his words brought nourishment to Lance’s heart and for the first time in weeks, his smile returned in spades. “Thanks man.”

“My pleasure.” A smile appeared to Keith’s lips.

Lance continued to look at him fondly, then indulged in the habit of playfully pushing his buttons. “So. Exactly how well _do_ you sing, Mr. Carol’s-in-the-night?

“I was a kid!” Keith looked away, arms crossed. “I don’t know if I still have it...”

“Voices mature, you know that, right?” he asserted with sass, then looked at him anxiously, “You think _I_ sound good enough for caroling?”

“Just make sure you have the words right. _”_ Keith teased.

Lance started singing “Let it Snow” again, this time with the _correct lyrics_ at the end of the first verse, and a little more zeal.

He then passed an imaginary microphone to an off-guard Keith. Keith softened and shyly took over the second verse, then gradually increased in enthusiasm with Lance while _possibly_ being within an earshot of others.

They ended with wholehearted chuckles. Then, with Keith’s melody and Lance’s harmony, they ended the sing-along with a rendition of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas (per Keith’s request).


	5. Pidge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance helps Pidge to reconnect with her inner child.

This was so stupid! After many revisions of the Christmas list, Pidge concluded that shopping at this point was not going to work. After all, lots of people weren’t even celebrating anyway.

She crumpled the paper and tossed it in the family of other junk beginning to accumulate near the wastebasket.

“Would you guys be willing to do me a favor, and just be a Christmas gift to the many friends and family on my list?” Pidge asked, more out of desperation. The multicolored space bugs floated and surrounded her, as if saying _no, we love you_.

“Oh, come on. We all know it wasn’t a permanent plan!” She smiled. After all, what would they be celebrating this year that they couldn’t year-round? Life, liberty, pursuit of the Galra’s end? _Unless Santa Claus existed for real on some other planet. That might actually be awesome…_

As she exhaled, everything she had to be thankful for trickled into her mind. Voltron’s victory, her family’s safety, new friendships, being back home. Christmas should have been a fifth on the list, hands down. Except it was no longer something she felt like celebrating.

_Holt Household_

Every Christmas morning, her mother would be in the kitchen, ingredients strewn on the counter, flour stains smeared on the cabinets. But days after the announcement of the Kerberos disaster, Pidge found her against the kitchen counter at six in the morning. Just a lone can of tomato sauce, with an unopened bag of Calrose rice. Tears were streaming down her face.

_“Mom…”_

_“Katie, why are you up so early?”_ She straightened and wiped her tears with her apron.

_“I’m gonna ask you the same question.”_

There was usually a trail of sunlight streaming through the windows of their two-story house, but the December climate decided to bring a bit of California rainfall instead. Three inches of it, to be precise.

_“Mom, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Dad and Matt...“_

_“...Would want us in their prayers, not putting our lives on hold.”_ In the middle of her stupor, she stood up straight and wore a smile with a determined frown. _“Go gather the rest of our ingredients for our Christmas dinner, then we can open some presents.”_

 _“Yes, Ma’am!”_ Pidge’s cooperation was reluctant. But she understood.

 ** _Samuel and Matthew Holt, Takashi Shirogane_** _._ Since that unfathomable headline on the news, she pushed and prodded for more about the story. Why they were only classified as “missing”? When the holidays were over it would be back to the Garrison, getting to the root of it all.

Presents were opened and wrapping paper discarded. Katie cradled the new telescope in her arms from Matthew. Her fingers tingled, as if using psychic energy to communicate with her big brother telepathically.

_“If you and Dad are alive, please tell me something”._

She usually shook her head at those who put their faith in superstitions or something unseen. ESP, sixth sense, anything might have been awesome at this point, however. It felt impossible for her to calculate the probability that permanent tragedy hadn’t befallen the men in her life.

_“When you put those presents away, join me in the kitchen so we can get started.”_

_“Sure thing.”_ She uttered while attempting to exhale the overwhelming sadness from her chest. The contemporary Christmas hits playing from the kitchen sealed the vacuum of depression shut, for now.

That night, she looked for Kerboros absent mindedly, knowing full well the satellite was much too faint for the naked eye to see. The rain made it impossible to spot Pluto. The gold and silver telescope remained in its new location by her window.

Present Day

Pidge was now on a Garrison roof, wrapped in a blanket because of course a thick sheet of snow was strewn across the landscape this time of year. The blanket had a USB device that plugged in her laptop and generated heat from its power supply.

The website had an array of specialty items. Most of it courtesy of an alien marketplace that begun to gather here on Earth. Her gaze fell on a toy robot that was more humanoid than what she had seen in the past. Wide-rimmed, circular glasses framed his childlike face. She clicked back to the sea of items littered on the page. The easiest people to shop for, hands down, were Matt and her dad. The most difficult…

“What’s up, Lance?!” she confronted, not even bothering to face him.

“ _How_?! I was creeping up here like a shadow!”

“Yeah, I know. You’re the ultimate ninja master of stealth.” She pointed out dryly.

“Watcha doin’?” he began to settle next to her.

“Christmas shopping.”

“Noted.” He arched up and went back the way he came. It invited an even colder mass where he departed.

“Wait, don’t go.” She asked him sadly as she shrunk the window.

“Hey, that doesn’t sound like a happy voice, Pidgey.”

“It isn’t. This is usually one of my favorite times of the year, and I feel like I’m just too old for it all.” She turned and met Lance’s soft scrutiny in his blue tinted gaze. “I mean, I know I’m not biologically _old_ or anything like that! It’s just…”

“Hey, I totally get it. Being a Paladin, defending the universe. That’ll do that to anyone!” He stretched his arms and sat down next to her, long legs dangling off the edge. She noticed him hugging his chest slightly while rubbing his arms rapidly. “Honestly, all of us have perpetually aged a billion years, did you know that I actually found a grey hair this morning? A gray hair!” he arched his palms upright in disdain, “I thought I wasn’t gonna have to deal with that for another twenty years! _Thirty_ if I was lucky!”

“If you _live_ that long.” The words rolled from her tongue and it surprised her. She tucked her knees in and hugged them. Just one more thing to come from her smart mouth this year… “I’m sorry.”

But Lance had a somber look on his face, as if she pressed a cool-down switch on his overactive brain. He still managed to form a mild smile.

“You’re right. We don’t know what the next phase of life is gonna bring.” He put on a pensive frown, tone reticent. “Which is why we have to enjoy every single precious thing we have right here, right _now_. Life’s still a gift, no matter how messy or heavy it can get. Maybe _that’s_ what we’re fighting so hard to protect!”

“I...” Pidge breathing became shallow and fragmented. No! Crying was not something she normally did, especially not at that…that… _whatever_ it was that just came from the Blue Paladin’s mouth. Lance must have been surprised as she suddenly lunged forth and hugged his waist.

“That was beautiful, Lance.” She told him, genuinely.

“Thought I’d try to speak from the heart this time.” He sympathized.

A pregnant pause remained between the two of them. Pidge finally yanked herself away after the first five ticks and straightened her glasses. An idea developed in her mischievous psyche. “I think I’ll call Hunk and the gang for a snowball ambush!

Lance bit his lips, trying not to laugh from the dissipating seriousness of the moment. “So… _you_ don’t think we’re all kinda _old_ for that?”

“Like you reminded me, us Paladins should be living to the fullest, indulging in our inner child for a while.” She gathered her keyboard and blanket, rushing happily to the door. “So…are you on my team?”

“Count me in!”

“Besides, you’re, like, the largest child I know.”

“Hey!”

They both walked inside, door shutting behind them.


	6. The Chain is Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins enjoy a snowball fight, with a surprise at the end...

One group text from Lance brought Hunk, Keith, and Shiro to an open field surrounded by snow-coated firs. They were out of their Garrison uniforms and wearing their warmest street wear.

“Why couldn’t we continue this in the briefing room, you know, where _coffee_ or _cocoa_ can love us?” the yellow paladin fit his scarf more snugly to his neck.

“This is definitely weird.” Shiro added, scanning the field with a soft frown and a piercing gaze.

“Leave it to Lance to be unorthodox.” The red paladin huffed an icy sigh, folding his arms nonchalantly. A gasp erupted from his throat after being pelted by a large ball of snow. “Who?!” He cried with a fist balled, demanding to know who would endure his wrath.

Meanwhile, Hunk immediately hid behind Shiro, who was backing up like he wanted to run away. A renegade ball smashed the taller man in the face, and he struggled to get to an advantage point thanks to Hunk constantly bound to the back of his arms.

“Hunk! This is _not_ going to work!” Shiro pleaded while blocking additional flying ice balls with his floating arm.

“We’ve been ambushed! We’re wide open!”

“So?! We fight back!” Keith jolted into his leader stance, upright and ready to fight. “Show yourselves!”, he screamed, which invited a short period of inactivity, followed by loud snickers and snorts vibrating from a nearby tree.

“You are _all_ ridiculous!” Pidge swung from a tree branch and landed on her feet with her knees bent. She smudged tears of laughter from her face, still wheezing.

Lance stumbled from behind a large tree trunk, holding his stomach and wheezing. “Geez, take it easy, Keith! It’s just a harmless snowball fight!” Honestly, if Pidge and Lance had been little kids, they would have been _terrified_ by Keith’s intensity.

“Keith, you did get a little _too_ passionate.” Shiro pointed out casually.

“The way you were revved up, I thought we were about to bring our lions into this!” Hunk joked.

“Leave me alone.” Keith uttered sheepishly under his breath with a pout, relaxing his fighter’s stance to appear more closed in and timid with his head hanging down.

Lance stepped forward, knocking his hands together in a “time out” gesture. “Okay, what do you say we start over? And this time we _all_ remember that this is just about having fun-“

Before he could finish, everyone fired a flurry of snow bullets at him and Pidge. “Ah, come on!”

It was an unspoken rule that Lance and Pidge were the targets of vengeance. Hunk once again used Shiro as a human shield. Shiro found himself running relentlessly after Pidge and Lance, who were both too short and too slippery for him to catch as easy targets. Keith would fling snowballs like they were grenades until each impact of snow exploded on Hunk, who was an unlucky casualty of Lance’s stealth. But the larger boy fired back by throwing two at a time. Lance managed to hit Keith with several more mostly because of tunnel vision on the other man’s part.

The fight continued past sunset, well into the mid evening hours. Eventually, each paladin was sprawled out in the same general area, faces ruddy and scraped from the vigorous fight.

“No more! I’ve had enough.” Hunk pleaded.

“Hadn’t had fun like _this_ in years.” Keith managed an exhausted, yet satisfied laugh.

“Tellin’ my future offspring about this.” Lance added with a scoff.

Pidge teased. “You okay, Shiro?” 

“Never better.” He smiled, finally rising to his feet. As he looked toward the city, his pupils shrunk with his mouth suspended open.

Olkarian’s, Balmerans, and Arusians. All observing and staring in amazement, some in unconcealable amusement.

Keith wore a worried look at first but smiled warmly. “Looks like we have an audience, everyone.” The other Paladins followed Shiro’s gaze and helped each other up.

“May we join you?" One of the Balmerans asked.

They received a chorus of lethargic objections from the exhausted Paladins. But Shay came forth and clarified that they wanted to join them in the snow and create snowmen, snow angels, anything. They changed their tune to welcoming enthusiasm.

A giant echo of a lion’s roar shook the area, soon followed by the roars of four more. Everyone on the field followed the vibration to find Allura and Coran standing in front of the giant lion sentinels. Each lions’ bodies were draped in large cords of Christmas light bulbs. their heads perfectly fitted with giant Santa hats.

“We’re all seeing the same thing, right? Santa’s little-I mean, giant helpers!’ Hunk cried.

“Awww! This is totes _adorbs_!” Lance gushed, after searching his pocket for his mint conditioned phone and beginning to record.

Pidge waved her arms around in jubilation. “Allura! How much time did you guys have on your hands? I mean, seriously? Those hats should each have taken at least half a year to knit!”

“Well…Go on, Coran!” Allura nudged the older Altean with her shoulder.

“Sorry, Pidge, no can do! Coran-claus never reveals his secrets!” the man twisted his mustache and arched his back in pride.

“You think they’re okay with being dressed up like this?” Shiro wondered while unable to remove his sights from Black.

“Something in my gut tells me that they’re _perfectly_ fine with it.” Keith assured him.

And Hunk gave Coran a thumbs up, realizing the unity that the smallest gesture could bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you have a Happy Holidays and a much happier, fulfilling 2021


End file.
